


Let no man put asunder

by softgrungeprophet



Series: A loosely connected timeline [3]
Category: Venom (Comics)
Genre: (probably), Blasphemy, Food, Other, Possessive Venom Symbiote (Marvel), Poverty, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sensuality, True Love, Worship, me banging pots and pans together: THEY'RE IN LOVE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 15:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16558106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softgrungeprophet/pseuds/softgrungeprophet
Summary: So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no man put asunder.





	Let no man put asunder

**Author's Note:**

> this is my life now i guess

"Don't try to kill anyone this time."

The symbiote didn't respond, radiating an emotion somewhere between regret, resentment and repentance. And what better place to repent than under the watchful eyes of the Mother of God, the vaulted ceilings and dimly lit surroundings of Our Lady of Saints. A floodlight outside cast a wheel of color through the rose window, onto the heavy cross behind the altar, and it was silent but for the buzz of generators and night insects.

It looked almost decent. No more rubble, at least.

 **You do not believe anymore**.

He had said as much, hadn't he?

But here he was again, in God's house.

His boots tapped muffled along the black and white tiles as he approached the crucifix.

**Why are we here, Eddie?**

Eddie stared up, for a moment. Quiet. "Forgiveness, I think."

In the morning, the woman at the pawn shop gave him forty dollars for his mother's rosary, soft scuffed rose quartz, tarnished silver, and worn gold plating. He had stolen it, as a child, from the half-packed boxes his father kept, of all her things. The woman he never knew, outside of a photo, outside of this string of pink stones.

He'd hoped for a little more than forty dollars.

 _Eddie Brock, you are a selfish man_.

**And a hungry one.**

His other spoke true.

Forty dollars... forty dollars... What could he get for forty dollars that would work toward both his own simple satisfaction and the satiation of his shadow's ravening desire? Should he save the money, let them hunt rats? Or should he indulge? So many shoulds, coulds, questions with no clear answers. But they couldn't, could they? Eat someone. They were supposed to be better than that, now, even living as a fugitive. A runaway. But not a murderer... not anymore. Not if they could help it, help themselves. They were better than that, now. He was a better man, now. At least, he tried to be.

Eddie covered his face briefly with his hands, blocking the daylight, remnants of sunrise playing off his eyelashes. A sigh. Fingers back through his shaggy, greasy hair as he looked up at the wispy clouds.

What if he needed the money?

No. There was no "what if." He needed the money. But it wasn't enough, didn't _matter_. Forty dollars is nothing when you have nothing yet at the same time, so much. So much to have and useless to spend in the long run, but so useful in the short run when it came to concerns of immediate hunger, of a need for soap and supplements.

It seemed to always end up this way.

**Eddie?**

"Yes, love."

 **Want to go home**.

He frowned, turning his attention inward, turning his eyes to the curl of black lain across his palm. "Aren't you hungry?" He held his hand to his cheek. Felt the darkness enveloping his palm to cup his jaw, stroke the side of his face.

But the symbiote sent a simple denial swimming behind his eyes.

 **Will be fine. Just want to be alone with you**.

Alone.

But he still needed to eat, himself.

 **Pizza in the freezer**.

Pizza? Oh. Frozen pizza salvaged from the dumpster. A little beat up but perfectly edible, if he could only get around to baking it—

The oven warmed their tiny apartment with the smell of slowly cooking pizza—of pepperoni, mozzarella. Eddie found himself flipping on the light every few minutes to watch air bubbles form and pop between the sauce and cheese, until his better half urged him away again. It would cook fine, be fine on its own. All a matter of waiting for the timer. Of patience.

He took a shower, surrounded by billows of white steam filling the bathroom. The symbiote pooled around his feet, in the thin layer of warm water that formed at the bottom of the tub. Content. Eddie smiled as he fought with the plastic bottle for the last dredges of shampoo. Just barely enough to lather through his hair, though a little thin. But it was something. It was enough to make him feel a little more human, even as his last bar of soap dissolved to nothing across his chest with the help of one of Venom's tendrils.

The timer went off just as he opened the bathroom door, half-dressed.

Perfect.

Eddie burnt his mouth almost immediately.

"Shit, that's hot."

Inside his brain, he felt the symbiote laugh, mixed with soothing impulses, and yeah, okay, maybe he'd been a little overeager. Maybe it was a little funny. But also—

His stomach growled. Loudly.

He busied himself picking the pepperoni off of the pizza, not because he didn't like pepperoni but because the alien sharing his body liked it _more_ , and liked to eat it up with those needle teeth and prehensile tongue. And he enjoyed watching it tentatively test a slice before devouring them each one by one.

A deep hum of satisfaction slid through his bones.

And while slightly dry discs of processed meat were... not great, honestly... they settled its system. Set it relaxing around Eddie's waist, piled up in his lap with eyespots framing a heart on its face as it watched him eat. He let one hand drift down to pet its flank while he took his sweet time with a slice.

The two of them ate three pieces of pizza together. Not more, only because this would be their food for at least the next day or two, if Eddie had anything to say about it. And that meant he still wanted some, still hungered, but that he would have to wait. Moderate himself. And he was a man of self-control, or so he liked to think. Self-control when it came to food, to body, to mind, to everything but his other.

So he put the food away and they continued their morning.

Condensation fogged the window, cool outside, warm inside.

Bright blue sky, clear white light.

Early afternoon sun gleamed through the open blinds and fell across Eddie's broad shoulders and back. A hazy halo around him, as he let his head lean back against the cold glass. The TV sat muted, with the light glaring off its screen, dancing in noisy colors. Eddie's breath came steady, deliberate. The symbiote twined along his fingers, up his arms. They held hands, and he closed his eyes, and it watched the silent pictures move across the screen.

Every once in a while, something distant broke the silence. A siren somewhere, blocks away, or a crow in a nearby tree. But mostly... mostly it stayed quiet. Maybe they should have been doing something, at midday, but Eddie didn't feel like it, and the symbiote had said it wanted to be alone with him anyway, and he couldn't think of a world where he'd ever say no to that. To just be together, no one bothering them, melted together so their bodies were one and apart all at once. Eddie breathed and Venom mixed with his blood and his oxygen, and their palms formed pockets of cool heat.

He let it in—or was it out?—with a slow breath. A long sigh, pleasant.

It left his face bare, and patches of his skin. Threads of itself anchoring to his exposed throat, the undersides of his eyelids, the base of his tongue, the veins along his wrist... The two of them, touching on a molecular level. A rapture of the body and soul.

He loved nothing more than this.

His shadow squeezed his hand, used his own vocal folds to murmur gently to him, and coaxed him—them, both of them—down into the blankets. Laid their head on the pillow. Gentle. Reverent. He kept his eyes closed, but he could see anyway, if seeing were the right word. More like an interpretation of the room, of himself, from the symbiote's point of view. It wasn't visual but it formed a vibrant image between the ripples of his thoughts. How it saw him. Heartbeat and impulse, bright and sharp but at the same time soft-edged.

Was this what love looked like? Stained glass?

Any remaining tension of the day bled from his shoulders the same way the sunlight bled into the room, the way air bled from his lungs but then filled them again. All a give and take, within and without, shadows and light, tension and release. Skin marbled with ink, and it was almost worshipful the way he immersed himself in it. Two minds, one, even less or even more. A whole universe of thoughts and emotions coursing through his cells like a divine river.

" **I love you**."

Neither would have been able to say who spoke—maybe both—but it had Eddie opening his eyes, gazing heavenward with the symbiote's possessive, devoted thoughts shifting to fall in line with the beat of his heart. He stared out at the blue, blue sky; blinding sun silvering the edges of his vision.

**You are _mine_ , Eddie.**

He clasped their joined hands together over his chest.

Time and time again, they had reclaimed each other. Not always on good terms, not always alright. But over and over and over—they could never escape each other and at this point Eddie didn't think he would ever want to. Not anymore.

"Yeah." His voice came out a whisper. "Yeah, I'm yours."

Venom surrounded and engulfed him in a slow flow of tar-like ecstasy.

  ** _Ours_**.


End file.
